dreamland haze and curl
26 November 2010 § Leave a comment
Two guys and a girl sat in a cramped room full of mattresses. A lamp and an end table fit awkwardly in the corner. Blown glass pipes travelled from one mouth to the next, each in a different order, each with a different drug.
The sun shined through the white blinds, and it was in this way that the city overwhelmed them. They could not escape that bleak light, which seemed like mostly reflections anyway. It was grey light and red, bouncing off the bridges and windows. It fed the animals that crawled in the alleys.
The highways were packed with cars and anger. The yells of drivers and honking horns seemed to birth from the depths of the city itself where no real people lived. In that apartment they were alone and pure and free to dream and create and destroy.
They did not know that energy could not be destroyed, only transformed. Their intention to put an end to it was noble enough, but went unspoken. The incandescent lamp fought the sun and today, it won. ‘what is this?’ she asked, inhaling as he handed her a smaller pipe with zebra stripes.
‘a little of this, a little of that – thc, pcp, maybe another acronym or two…’ his Spanish accent showed up more when he was stoned. So did his misery. He did his best to act and look like a drug dealer. Probably because that’s what he was. Despite this, he was a fake. His black wifebeater and khaki corduroys made him look hard, but in his heart he was a peaceloving hippie who hated the town he lived in and wanted to escape from it.
By escape I don’t mean that he necessarily wanted to leave, because he made lots of money there and he liked money as much as he liked peace, if not just a little bit more. So he wanted to escape by other means, and that’s what he was doing with these two, who just at that moment were blowing smoke rings into each other’s mouths and kissing. He wanted to think a different way, to be more pure, and that’s what this did for him. “get the fuck out of here and get a room, guys.’ He stood up and switched off the lamp. That was his signal to them that it was over. It was time to go. Time to deal with the city again.
They didn’t get it. Instead, they were entranced with each other, lying face to face on one of the mattresses, caressing cheeks and giggling and things like that.
Normally he would leave them alone, but feeling particularly staggered today he went to the side of the mattress they laid on and lifted it up, dumping both of them onto the floor.
‘what the fuck is your problem?’ the girl immediately got up. He could see the livid look in her eyes that just a moment ago he wouldn’t have thought possible. He stared back. Her boy get their stuff and took her hand.
‘hey. fuck it, let’s go.’ She followed him. Reluctance and anger washed over her. The door creaked.
They drove through the underpass and the sun sprinkled them occasionally as it found its way off the buildings and through the cracks of the city. It was so very newyorkdramafilm, this drive. They were silent as he drove into the depths of concrete and steel.
(as we drove on the highway into the depths of the earth, the image of the dying sun gleaming off the glass and into us was brilliant and tragic)